


Bunkmates

by Cedara



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Community: Treksoap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-25
Updated: 2006-02-25
Packaged: 2018-08-15 17:24:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8065360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cedara/pseuds/Cedara
Summary: Spoilers, 1.25 "Two Days And Two Nights," 2.12 "The Catwalk." (10/26/2003)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Ensign Tanner's first name is fanon. Credit for that goes to Akire. Credit for Stephen's nickname goes to Xandri. Tanner's and Rostov's family backgrounds are my own idea. As for the restâ€”Blame Treksoap. Thanks to Mareel for the beta. Whereever I haven't agreed with her aid, it's totally my own fault. Also, thanks to Scifijunkie for answering my weird additional grammar questions.  


* * *

"All hands, this is the captain!"

Michael Rostov looked up from his console in Engineering to listen.

"Due to the ion storm that will hit Enterprise in a few hours, we're going to evacuate into the catwalk. We won't be able to leave it for a few days, as the storm's radiation is lethal. Space will be an issue; therefore every crewmember is allowed only one bag of things to carry with them, so pack only what you think absolutely necessary. The heads of your departments will coordinate the evacuation details. They will help you if you have any questions. Good luck, everyone."

A few seconds later, Commander Tucker walked back into Engineering. "Rostov, we've gotta shut down the warp engine."

He nodded. "Aye, sir."

* * *

There weren't many things Michael thought he'd need aside from a toothbrush and a comb—a few books, his travel chess set, a fresh uniform shirt and fresh underwear, plus fresh socks for a week. The commander had said that nobody should bring a change of uniform, since they barely would have time to even install a toilet, but Michael knew that even though he could go without a shower for a while, the least he had to have was a change in underwear and socks.

He quickly put the shirt, the underwear and socks into his bag, carefully securing the chess set in between them. Then he added his toiletries, the Tolstoy copy he got from grandma, the thriller he hadn't read yet, the other one he was reading currently and his padd with his engineering zine subscription on top of it all. Finally, he zipped his bag shut and headed out of his quarters.

* * *

Arriving at the catwalk, Michael was quickly assigned a berth by one of the crewmen in charge of the sleeping arrangements. No bag was there, so he supposed he had the first choice in the upper or the lower bunk. He took the pillow and the grey blankets he'd been given, threw them onto the lower bunk and put his bag down on the floor next to it.

"Crewman Rostov?"

Michael turned around and looked the darkest eyes he'd ever seen. They belonged to a guy not much taller than he was himself, with broad shoulders and dark blond hair. He wore a uniform with a yellow piping, which was probably why Michael hadn't seen him before.

"Yes?"

"Ensign Stephen Tanner. I'm your bunkmate."

"Oh...—nice to meet you." Michael smiled and held out his hand. "I'm Michael Rostov."

"Nice to meet you." They shook hands and as Tanner smiled too, Michael realized that he'd do anything to get to know this guy better.

* * *

"What are you reading?"

Sitting comfortably on the lower bunk, Michael looked upward at Tanner, who was lying on his stomach on the upper one, staring down at him.

"An old crime fiction collection from the end of 20th century. Pretty good."

"Yeah?" Tanner smiled.

"Yeah." Michael smiled back at him. Getting the impression that Tanner seemed bored, he asked, "You don't happen to play chess, Ensign?"

"It's Stephen, Michael. And actually, yes, I do."

"Cool." Michael closed his book and put it aside. "I have a board with me. Wanna

play?"

Stephen sat up and jumped down from the bunk. "Love to."

* * *

Over a few rounds of chess, Michael got to know a few things about Stephen Tanner.

He had a sister back home on Earth, who was an English teacher and married to a guy who worked at Starfleet headquarters. And Stephen had introduced them to one

another. Aside from that, he had an aunt who worked as a scientist on Luna Station and an uncle who was an engineer at Jupiter Station. No other living relatives.

Stephen liked chocolate chip cookies and hated spinach—just as Michael did. They also both loved sci-fi movies, but their tastes in the genre differed. Stephen preferred the more action-packed offerings, while Michael liked the space operas better.

"You should meet my folks," Michael said.

"Oh?" Stephen looked curiously at him.

"My half-sister Kim works at the Film Archive—if you ever need to find some obscure movie, she's the one to ask. She and Lily—that's her wife—they have a house with an incredible movie room—I think I spent half my childhood with those two. That is, when I wasn't back home at my grammy's place, or she wanted me to taste one of her new creations for the restaurant. Don't get me wrong, though; she's a great cook."

Stephen smiled. "Must have been hard keeping in shape with someone like your grandma around."

"Sometimes was. But regular exercise helped. Kim saw to that."

Stephen nodded in understanding.

"Ensign Tanner?" A distinct female voice from the walkway interrupted them both.

Looking over where it had come from, they both rose as they noticed Sub-Commander T'Pol standing there, looking at them.

"Yes, Sub-Commander?" Tanner asked.

"I'm afraid you and Crewman Rostov will have to interrupt your game. You're to relieve Ensign Mayweather at the helm at 0600 hours. I suggest you get some rest."

"Aye, ma'am." Tanner answered. Almost abruptly, she turned around and left, heading towards the Command Section.

"Guess that means we'll call it a night, huh?" Michael asked.

"Yeah." Stephen answered. "Can you store the board safely, so we can continue after my shift?"

"Sure."

* * *

Something was tugging at him, taking away what/who he was holding. Michael opened his eyes blearily. Stephen was kneeling next to the bunk, holding a book—the Tolstoy copy Michael had fallen asleep over.

"Sorry," Stephen smiled shyly, "I didn't want to wake you. You fell asleep with the book on your chest. It's a pretty heavy volume you've got there; you kinda looked uncomfortable. "

Michael yawned and blinked. "Oh. Thanks." He smiled slightly. " 'Tis okay. You gotta go to your shift?"

"No. Returning already." He sat down at the edge of the bunk Michael was lying on. "I'm done for today, Travis has taken helm back." Stephen grinned as he saw Michael's eyes widen at his sentence.

"Good god, how long have I slept?"

"No idea, at least five or six hours I guess." Stephen patted Michael's leg for a moment, then let his hand linger there. "You hungry? I was planning on trying to see what ration packs Chef offers for breakfast. Join me?" The hand moved away from his leg and held out to help Michael up.

"I could eat, yeah," Michael answered and took Stephen's offered hand.

* * *

The next few days were similar to their first. Occasionally Stephen had to help out on helm. But most of the time, since he was primarily assigned to Armoury, Stephen was off-duty too.

Why Stephen wasn't interested in hanging out with the people from his department, Michael didn't know, but he also didn't ask. Michael liked having his bunkmate around, liked watching him while Stephen thought over his next move at chess. During those times, a small crease between Stephen's eyebrows appeared occasionally and after a while Michael realized it more than often meant that he would lose the game.

Once or twice, when he thought Michael wasn't looking, Stephen seemed to brood a

little. It was a mood that seemed to pass as soon as he caught Michael's gaze. Then, Stephen's eyes softened and Michael couldn't help smiling at him.

In between their chess games, Stephen's time at helm and their chats, the two fraternized a little with the rest of the crew. During one of those moments, when Ensign Hutchinson from the regular beta shift had taken over helm, they ran into

Travis Mayweather.

"Steo!" Mayweather exclaimed. "There you are, man. I've been looking all over for you."

Stephen glanced at Michael, grinned and whispered, "Don't ask." Then, he looked at Mayweather, but before he could say anything else, Travis had noticed Michael standing by Stephen's side.

Mayweather looked at him. "I know you, right?" After a small pause, he smiled, remembering. "Rostov. Crewman Rostov. You flew us down to Risa about a year ago."

"That's right, Ensign," Michael answered.

"Travis for my friends."

"My name's Michael."

"Michael." Travis smiled at him. "Anyway...why I was looking for you, Steo..."

Michael listened amusedly when the two ended up talking shop in his presence. Stephen's eyes lit up, and Michael had to be careful not to get lost in studying his friend's face.

* * *

For the most part, their time on the catwalk resembled a long camping trip, except that communal showers were missing. However, on one of the days in the latter half of their stay, while Stephen was at helm, Michael noticed Commander Tucker leaving the catwalk in a special EV suit.

The commander returned soon afterwards. A crowd seemed to assemble around the berth of their alien guests, and Michael noticed Zabel and Foster from security moving towards it as well, both of them armed. Although he couldn't see anything, an angry voice could be heard from afar. Not much later, the Captain, Lieutenant Reed and Sub-Commander T'Pol left in EV suits, and Stephen returned to their berth.

"What's going on, Stephen?" Michael asked, curious. He'd noticed that it was getting warmer on the catwalk. Personally, he had an idea of what was causing the additional warmth—Commander Tucker's little trip had given him a clue in that regard—but he didn't want to frighten Stephen if he were wrong. Aside from that, the rumour mill had mentioned something about alien intruders on board.

"It appeared to be some glitch in engineering at first," Stephen explained. "Don't ask me for details, that's your forte." He smiled at Michael. "Anyway, that's why Commander Tucker was outside. But he was wrong, and yes, there are alien intruders on board. The captain, Lieutenant Reed and Sub-Commander T'Pol are out to get rid of them, as I understood it. That's why Travis has taken helm back from me. He is, after all, the best of us."

Suddenly, the ship shook hard, and they both had to hold tight to the railings. At one point, Stephen fell against Michael, pressing him against the hard metal. Their faces aligned, the two of them ending up almost cheek to cheek, startling Michael a little. As if that weren't unsettling enough, Stephen's scent and the close touch of their bodies against one another caused butterflies in Michael's stomach to rise and fly, leaving him a little confused when Stephen stepped back and they parted again.

"Sorry, Michael," Stephen said, sounding a bit out of breath.

"No problem," Michael replied.

While Michael was trying to deal with his confusion, they both noticed Lieutenant Reed and Sub-Commander T'Pol returning to the catwalk, walking immediately towards the Command Section.

Not much later, the ship resumed its course in calmer waters, and the Captain returned to the catwalk as well.

* * *

There was only so much chess playing they could do and reading was still a solitary passtime, so they both went to movie night, even though a western wasn't quite what they would have chosen.

The berth the movie was shown in was packed, and the small screen was rather impractical; Michael thought that Stephen might not have dared to stand this close to him otherwise. Feeling his friend behind him in the darkness, Stephen's breath close to Michael's neck, was a teasing experience, distracting him much of the time, so much that he barely followed the events of the movie.

When he had almost given up on understanding the plot on the screen, Stephen whispered into Michael's ear. "Look. T'Pol. Over on your right."

Glancing over, Michael smiled to himself. He leaned over towards his friend, managing to whisper back into his ear, "I didn't know she liked movies."

On that, Stephen shrugged, "Who knows."

Halfway into the movie, however, things changed once more.

"All hands, this is the captain. Thanks to some fine piloting by Travis Mayweather, we're gonna be moving out of the storm a little earlier than expected. We should be clear in a few minutes."

The lights went up again, and Stephen and Michael looked at each other.

"That's it then?" Michael asked, sounding a little disappointed.

"Looks like it. I wonder..." Stephen started carefully.

"Yeah?"

"When we've both showered, changed, and such...—when you've got some free time...—you could drop by my quarters, and we could go and have dinner together...if you'd like..."

Smiling, Michael answered, "Sure. It's a date."

"Cool." Stephen smiled back at him.

* * *

"Hey," Michael said, as he entered Stephen's quarters.

"Hey, yourself." Stephen grinned, holding a heavy figurine in his hand. "I'll just have to put a few things away that fell off my shelves. Just make yourself comfortable in the meantime."

"No problem."

For a while, Michael occupied himself with watching Stephen as he was clearing up his quarters. Then, as Michael realized he was receiving odd glances from his friend, he walked around the room.

* * *

"This is spacious, Stephen. Twice the size of mine, I guess," Michael remarked as he sat down at the desk. "And you have your own laptop here. I have to share with Fisher." Turning his back towards Stephen, Michael looked at the screen and started to look up the ship's film archive.

As he felt Stephen stand beside him, Michael asked, "So what's your fave?" He browsed around in the menu until he was stopped by Stephen's hand on his. Looking at him, Michael almost hadn't noticed that Stephen was leaning a little towards his friend, their faces only separated by a few centimeters. There was a soft warmth in Stephen's eyes, and Michael felt his heart beat faster and his breathing quicken.

"There's something I long to do...," Stephen whispered softly, his face coming even closer to Michael's.

"Oh..." The little sound in the back of Michael's throat was stopped by Stephen's lips on his. Softly at first, then, as Michael responded in kind, more demanding, more eager. A tongue sneaked out, requesting entrance, which he granted with pleasure. Tasting. Promising. Demanding. Satisfying. Hands participating. Exploring. Feeling warmth under cloth. Closer. Zipper opening. Needing to get closer to him.

Desire rolled over Michael like a tsunami and suddenly their uniforms were in the way. He wanted to feel Stephen's skin, wanted to feel Stephen's hands touching him. It was exhilarating, and he wanted to dive in fearlessly. Still, they both had to come up for air at some point.

When they finally did, Michael noticed he somehow had managed to move away from the chair he'd been sitting on, towards the desk. A few minutes more and he'd have had his butt on said desk. "Wow...," Michael whispered.

"Wow indeed," Stephen answered softly, one of his hands caressing Michael's cheek, gently nipping a kiss or two in between.

"I didn't know..."

"Me neither." Stephen said. "I just hoped my instincts weren't wrong."

"They weren't." Michael smiled at him. Then he grinned.

"What?" Stephen looked at him questioningly.

"I doubt you can go to the messhall looking like that," Michael said, taking in that Stephen's hair was all mussed and his uniform jumpsuit was partly open.

"Look who's talking." Stephen smirked at him, adjusting his uniform in the meantime.

Obviously, Stephen had been a bit more successful in half undressing him than Michael had been in his own efforts with Stephen. His jumpsuit was definitely opened, half his uniform shirt was already outside, the lower buttons opened.

"Gee, ya won."

Stephen snickered. A warm, amused sound, and Michael couldn't help smiling himself.

"C'mon, I'll help you," Stephen offered, laying his hand on Michael's shoulder, caressing softly.

Immediately feeling the effect it was having on him, Michael declined. "Oh no, we'd never leave your quarters that way, Stephen."

Leaving Michael the space he needed to make himself presentable again, Stephen suddenly looked seriously at him. "Is that a promise?"

Stopping for a moment, Michael met his friend's gaze. "Yes," he answered, equally seriously. Zipping up his uniform jumpsuit, he then added with a smirk, "I'll have toast and tea for breakfast, thank you."

Punching his friend playfully on the arm at that comment, both men left Ensign Tanner's quarters in the direction of the mess hall.


End file.
